The Art of Time
by DramioneLurver
Summary: Time was supposed to heal his wounds, not make things worse. She was supposed to love him, not break him. Neville/Luna, Neville/Hannah. Epilogue compatible.


**A/N: For those who read my work, I'm so sorry for the long absence! My profile will have more details on what has detained me recently. Anyway, this was written for the Writing Quotes Challenge. The prompts were used in order, with a line or two of the song snuck in its portion. It's a fabulous song, by the way. Try listening to it while reading that part of the story; that's how I wrote it. The music video is really amazing, but it takes a different spin on the lyrics. **

**Quote: "Life is like an hourglass… eventually everything hits bottom and all you have to do is wait out until someone comes along and turns it around."**

**Prompts: 1. Notebook **

** 2. Star **

** 3. Red Lipstick **

** 4. Here Comes Goodbye – Rascal Flatts**

** 5. TV **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Care to share your thoughts? Beta-ed by the fabulous and super fast Sousay and Prim. Additionally, there _is _a sequel/companion piece in the works with Luna's side of the story.**

Someone very wise once told him that life was like an hourglass. They had been staring at the object in the Great Hall that held the pitiful littering of Gryffindor rubies, just a couple of Gryffindor fifth years waiting for… for what? For O.W.L.s to be over? For Umbridge to disappear or die or at least just somehow go away?

Now that he thought about it, he wondered why she had been there, staring at the hourglasses with him instead of stowed away in the library, surrounded by piles of books and parchment. After all, she was the smartest witch in their year for a reason: she worked for it.

Well, okay, and the fact that she was brilliant helped, too. (_And that right there – the fact that she was brilliant – was what made him trust whatever she said, anything and everything_.)

Everyone had just gotten back from Christmas break, and the teachers had already burdened the O.W.L. students with a workload heavier than they had ever had to endure before. Theoretically, Hermione Granger should have been locked up studying, not relaying bits of wisdom to the nobody, Neville Longbottom. The only reason she was doing so – he told himself – was because of Christmas Break. When she and all the others had seen him visiting his parents.

"Life is like an hourglass," she'd proclaimed after she'd stood there in silence for a while, studying the rubies alongside him instead of books with Harry and Ron. "Eventually everything hits bottom and all you have to do is wait out until someone comes along and turns it around."

Quite frankly, he had no idea what to say to that. He didn't even know what it meant. Trying to understand, he repeated the phrase over and over again in his head, unknowingly ingraining the words into his brain. Suddenly Hermione had turned to face him, eyes soft and caring and gentle and strong.

"But someone _will _come along and turn it around," she'd promised, lips curling up into a small, reassuring smile before swiftly spinning on her heals and disappearing, probably to the library where she belonged. Long after she had gone, Neville stayed in the very spot where he had been standing the entire time, staring at the little rubies in the hourglass, wondering who had cost their house ten points on a Saturday morning and thinking about what Hermione had said. Although he trusted her completely, he couldn't help but feel pessimistic.

(_After all, he had gone too long without someone flipping over his hourglass, leaving him empty and waiting_.)

Months passed. Being a member of Dumbledore's Army made him happy, much happier than he'd been in a long time. For a while, he thought that maybe – just maybe – Harry and the DA had turned his hourglass around. But little hiccups reminded him that the sand in his hourglass was falling fast.

(_Was there sand in his hourglass? Maybe he had rubies in his hourglass, like the Gryffindor one in the Great Hall. No, surely not rubies. Rubies were the color of a true Gryffindor, someone brave, someone courageous, someone like Harry, someone not like him._)

With Umbridge hovering over the school, even the DA didn't make life easy and carefree and fun again. There were fun times, to be sure, but life in general was still gloomy and dark. He longed for a time when there would be sunshine with patches of shadow, rather than darkness with sparkles of light.

(_Whatever was in his hourglass, he would always seem to be running out, always almost gone, always close to empty. It seemed like someone started to flip his hourglass over, but then decided he wasn't worth the effort_.)

Still, he continued to wait. Waited for someone, something, anyone, anything to come along and fulfill Hermione's promise. Times would come that almost had him believing that it had happened, that somehow his hourglass had been turned over and his sand (_rubies?)_ was gleefully running again. But they never lasted long, so he knew that his hourglass hadn't really been properly turned.

So he waited and waited and waited. Summer came and went. Sixth year came and went. Dumbledore came and died. Snape went and killed him. Everyone knew and everyone said but nobody _did_. Well, except Harry and Ron and Hermione. Seventh year came and they didn't. Everyone knew and everyone said: they were the ones out _doing_. They were out fighting the fight, fighting against Death Eaters and other dark forces when they ought to have been in school worrying about nothing but what assignments which teachers handed out (and when were they due?) and who was backstabbing who (and why? And weren't they just seen eating lunch together yesterday?).

Then again, even those people who were at Hogwarts worried about more than that this year. Everything seemed to be falling apart. Snape returned as _Headmaster _and brought his Death Eater buddies with him. The Slytherins became unbearable. 'Muggle Studies' turned into the nightmare of every Muggleborn and Halfblood student. Autumn slowly froze, approaching winter faster and faster, bringing worse news every day. A good portion of the students lived in constant fear, murmurings never ceased through the hallways. Nobody ever lingered in the Great Hall any more, not when doing so meant being in the same room as the Carrows.

It hadn't taken long for Neville to crack.

Rumors of the resistance, of the remaining Order members, of the idolized Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed his ears everywhere. But for weeks, he was to afraid to _do_ anything, like they were. Wasn't someone supposed to flip over his hourglass for him? How could he make the sand (_why couldn't he have rubies, like Harry or Ron or Hermione?_) start flowing again all by himself?

Then, a week before Halloween, everything changed.

By that time, the library had become a sanctuary for him. Reading in his dorm was painful; whenever he looked up and saw the empty beds around him, a sinking feeling of guilt would weigh his stomach down. Although he mostly spent his time with his fellow Gryffindors in the Common Room, sometimes he liked being alone.

On that particular evening, he had been reading up on some interesting plants Professor Sprout had been chatting about with him earlier in the week. Whenever he was feeling a particularly stressed, freshening up on his Herbology always seemed to help him relax.

"They say that Akoppies like to live inside the hollows of Kulpian trees," her voice rang from behind his shoulder. Spinning around to face her, Neville wasn't surprised to see Luna standing there. After all, it was _her _voice. Nevertheless, he was still pleased. He hadn't spoken to her very much since coming back to school. Over the last couple of years, they had grown rather close, first through joining the DA, then through sticking by Harry, fighting side by side in two battles against Death Eaters with him and the others, but gradually they had started to spend time together without Harry or Hermione or Ron or Ginny. But despite the friendship they had developed, he hadn't spoken to her recently, getting too caught up in the stress of the war. Seeing her again, he realized that a not-that-small bit of him missed the strange girl.

"I wouldn't know," he admitted it response. "This book doesn't mention them."

"That's a shame," she replied airily as she sat down in the seat next to him, placing her book bag on the table. "They're rather interesting creatures."

"I'm sure they are," he responded kindly, reddening slightly when she pulled something out from her bag and devoted all of her attention to it before he had even finished speaking. It had always been a bit awkward for him when she would suddenly diverge her attention away from him when he was talking. Not knowing what else to do, he returned to his book in silence.

Then she started humming. Rustling noises soon joined the bizarre music, but after a moment's contemplation, he realized that he was rather fond of the tune. Peeking up from the pages of his Herbology book, Neville peered over at the blonde, a smile sneaking its way onto his face at the sight of her scribbling on a… what was that? It was like parchment, but… not. It was whiter, with multiple light blue lines dividing it into sideways pieces. Then his gaze transferred up from the mysterious item the Ravenclaw was running her quill across to her small, white hand. Her long, delicate fingers gripped the brightly colored quill loosely, matching the lazy expression on her face. No, lazy wasn't exactly right. Thoughtful, serious, reflective, but still light and bordering on careless. For no apparent reason at all, it reminded him of the gentle wind on a summer's day that felt so wonderful he just had to close his eyes and drink in the sensations.

"It's a notebook," Luna explained without him ever asking the question as she looked up from her paper and met his gaze. "Daddy thought it would be useful since I always seem to loose all my papers. Now they're all bound together nicely."

"Oh," Neville uttered as he flushed slightly red. "That's… that's clever."

"Yes. I think so, too," Luna agreed, returning her attention to whatever she was writing in that notebook of hers. Neville, however, did not look away, but continued to study her. Since last summer, her long blonde hair had grown even longer, the wispy tendrils settling over her back, on her shoulder, down her arm, even draping over and under the table. He had never noticed how pale her skin was before, but maybe that was because it hadn't been that pale before. Surely she didn't used to sport those light circles under her eyes as if she suffered from chronic insomnia. In fact, once he searched for it, Neville noticed that she seemed heavier this year; not physically, but emotionally, mentally. Her limbs, her hair, even the edges of her lips fell victim to gravity faster than before.

"Luna, are you… How are you?" he inquired in a soft tone, eyebrows crunching together with worry for his… well, his friend.

"I'm all right, thanks," she answered promptly with her usual airiness. "How are you?"

"I'm… I'm fine, but Luna…." He paused, frustrated with himself for not being able to say what he wanted. "Luna, how are you _really_?"

"How are _you_ really?" she responded slowly, eyes gradually drifting up to meet his. Suddenly whatever shield that had blocked all the emotions behind her eyes disappeared, revealing the dark clouds of weariness, worry, and pain.

"I'm… terrible," he finished in a shamed whisper, letting his eyes fall to the table between them. "I hate not… not _doing _anything."

"Me too," Luna agreed solemnly.

"I mean, I should be doing something!" Neville exclaimed in frustration. Then remembering to lower his voice – in case those loyal to the Carrows eavesdropped – he continued, "I'm a Gryffindor, too. I should be brave and courageous, like Ron and Harry and Hermione."

"You are," Luna told him, staring up at him with those large, silvery eyes of hers. He looked back at her sadly.

"No, I'm not," he corrected, hanging his head. "I'm not doing anything to actually help the war. I'm just sitting here in school, letting Hogwarts be run over by a bunch of _Death Eaters_."

"Then let's do something," she suggested with a simple shrug of her shoulders.

"What?" he questioned, anxious to hear a plan but scared that he wouldn't be able to go through with it at the same time.

"We can reform the DA," Luna declared, a light flashing in her silver eyes as the thought became words. When a smile grew across his face, a matching one spread to her own.

"We'll need to plan this perfectly," Neville remarked, already excited to start _doing _something. Smoothly, Luna turned to her notebook and flipped to a new page.

"We can start right now," she offered, raising her quill as she shot him a grin.

"Brilliant," he replied, feeling happier than he had in a long time. "But before we do, we need to tell—"

"Ginny," Luna finished for him as he nodded. "I'll tell her tomorrow in Charms. We can all meet tomorrow evening."

"Where at?" Neville asked, at once agreeing with her plan.

"The usual room should do nicely," Luna suggested.

After settling upon gathering in the Room of Requirement, the two decided that they could at least plan some things before discussing their idea with Ginny. Huddled close together, their heads remained centimeters apart as they hovered over Luna's notebook, compiling lists of people to include, spells to learn, materials to gather. (_Everything Harry and Ron and Hermione would do if they were there_.)

And they pulled it off. As expected, Ginny jumped at the idea of restarting Dumbledore's Army; after being restless for so long, many of the old DA members rejoined with the same fervency. Led by the three of them, the small collection of students expanded, bonding together to protect themselves and other students from the horrors distributed by the Carrows.

When Luna was dragged away by Death Eaters on the train on their way home for Christmas Break, Neville blamed himself and his stupid idea of stealing Gryffindor's sword from Dumbledore's office (_they never referred to it as Snape's office among each other; even within earshot of dangerous others, they would only call it the Headmaster's office)._ For weeks, he berated himself for that failed attempt, dreaming of times when they had been faster, sneakier, heroes among the DA, perhaps even finding a way to deliver the precious sword to the Order, or even Harry himself.

But they hadn't been good enough, fast enough, sneaky enough, and they had been caught. Neville had worried for the girls' safety then, but somehow they had pushed through all right, like they did with every other punishment Snape or the Carrows would deal out (_not to say that they didn't have scars; war always left scars_).

When Luna was taken from them, nobody knew when (_or if_) they would see here again. Ginny had spent the remainder of the trip – as well as the two weeks following their return to school – trying to convince him that it wasn't his fault. Only when she started reminding him that they couldn't stop fighting, that they had to keep pushing, that the war still needed to be fought, did he force himself to straighten up. He didn't forget (_how could he forget about the person who had become his best friend?_), but rather continued struggling to protect his fellow students. Once they finished the year at Hogwarts, he could go and find her.

But it was difficult, so difficult. Waiting for the time to pass grew harder and harder every step of the way. Rebelling against the Carrows led to public punishments more frequently now (_even more scars to show her when he found her_), but he never stopped standing up for his friends who weren't there to stand for themselves. The pain, he told himself, was temporary, only physical, something they could push onto his body all they wanted, but he wouldn't give in.

(_Whenever he wanted to scream, he wouldn't let it be because of them; when the physical pain became too much, he thought of her, and the screams that satisfied their twisted need for violence rang from his throat_.)

By the time Easter came, Ginny had warned him that she might not be returning, but not seeing her face every day only made his trial all the more difficult. But fortunately, he didn't have to last much longer.

Shortly after he had taken up practically living in the Room of Requirement, Harry and Ron and Hermione arrived at the castle. Once that happened, everything else that followed flashed by in quick succession. One last battle later, and before he knew it, Voldemort was dead. For good this time.

A time for celebration would come, but right then, Neville only wanted to rest. Before he could attempt to find the rest which had evaded him ever since the New Year despite the hours of sleep he strived to rack up, there was more work to do. Pushing through the monstrous front doors, he again found himself on the Grounds with countless black shadows, all of them waving their wands and performing healing spells or levitation spells on the bodies strewn along the ground.

"You should go back inside," her voice advised softly from behind him. A smile tempted his lips at the sound, but he was too exhausted to let it show.

"I can't," he insisted, stooping down to let the light of his wand reveal the face of an unconscious young man he didn't know. "There's still work to do."

"Let someone else take over for a while," she suggested. "You deserve a break."

"Maybe in a little bit," he replied, levitating the boy and walking him back to the castle. After gently handing over the boy to a sixth year Hufflepuff who was delivering the bodies from the Grounds to the Hospital Wing, he finally turned around to face her. Upon seeing her again, his lips curled into a true smile.

"Luna," he breathed in relief. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," she replied with a soft smile that reached into her silvery eyes. For a while, they stood there in silence, but then Luna stepped forward, reached out her arms, and wrapped them around Neville's neck. Pleasantly surprised, Neville slipped his own arms around her waist, relishing the presence of his best friend.

"Aren't you going to tell me about the creatures you've been reading about while away?" he murmured in her ear teasingly.

"I haven't been reading about any creatures," she replied lightly, as if an amused laugh hid right behind those eyes, when she pulled out of his embrace. "I've been studying the stars."

"Oh, really?" he asked, wondering if she would be reciting horoscopes and turning to Divination for everything now. Hermione certainly wouldn't agree with that. Somehow, he couldn't exactly picture the Ravenclaw trusting such silly methods either.

"Not Divination," she explained in that serene voice of hers that filled him with a sweet peacefulness. "Just the stories behind the constellations."

"Oh," he repeated in a much more interested tone.

"Would you like me to tell you about them?" she offered, staring at him calmly with those silver eyes. His lips again slipped into a soft smile as he agreed.

"You can see more of them if you're lying down," she remarked, telling him in her unique way that he had to lay in the grass. Immediately after lying down next to him, she lifted her hand to the sky, pointing around as she spoke. When she referred to a different constellation, she would trace the outline with her finger. At first he followed the drawings of her finger, but he simply couldn't see the stars depicting Leo.

"Here," she whispered, taking hold of his wrist as she moved her torso almost directly over him. Half lying on top of him, she rose both of their hands in the air, guiding his hand to point to the stars that created the lion of the night.

As the minutes passed, they remained in that position, but Neville didn't mind. Even more pleasing, however, was when he found out that she didn't mind when he flipped his hand upside down and intertwined his fingers with hers. As he stroked the inside of her palm with his thumb, Neville felt so relaxed that he let the soothing music of her voice lull him off the sleep, comforted by the warmth of her body against his chest.

Just before he dipped into dreamland, he realized that his hourglass had finally been turned around.

(_And he could almost swear that those were actual rubies flowing slowly through._)

Over the next year, the war still kept everyone busy. Buildings and schools and homes needed to be reconstructed and repaired. With Kingsley Shacklebolt as Acting Minister of Magic, the government gradually saw progress as well, restoring order in the Wizarding World. One of the earliest actions Shacklebolt took involved allowing those younger fighters who desired it to become Aurors and continue hunting down any dangerous individuals who hadn't died or been captured during the war. Everyone expected Harry and even Ron to join those hunting down the remaining 'people of interest,' but many were surprised when Hermione didn't follow in her friends' footsteps. Neville, however, knew that she wouldn't be the bookworm they all knew and loved if she didn't go back to school to finish her education and take her N.E.W.T.s.

To _his _surprise, not as many were surprised when he joined Harry and Ron in the Auror Department. Even Luna simply smiled at him, like she knew he would take that path, even though she did give him some strange warning about gum disease.

Traveling throughout the country and even internationally, Neville tried to owl Luna as often as possible. Nevertheless, Neville figured that the distance and time apart saw their close friendship thin a bit even as his friendship with Harry and Ron grew exponentially. Although the three boys had been friends at Hogwarts, being on the road together, relying on them to have his back, placing his life entirely in their hands meant that Neville had the chance to get to know them even more than before, on a level much more personal than before.

Most of the time they would focus on their assignments, not chat about their lives, but they talked enough for all of them to know about the girl each of them was anxious to go home to. All three of the girls were finishing up their last year at Hogwarts, so the boys found a bit of solace in the fact that they wouldn't have been able to see them very often anyway.

The analogy wasn't perfect, however, since Ron and Harry were actually dating Hermione and Ginny, respectively, and Neville was only good friends with Luna. Best friends, really, but just that. On the occasions – which were much too frequent for Neville's comfort – when the other two Gryffindors would suggest otherwise, Neville always protested insistently until the boys recounted their claims, even as he blushed madly – something they never let him forget.

(_That was one reason he never told them that each and every mention of Luna as something more than just a friend to him led to endless thoughts about her sparkling silver eyes and flowing blonde hair, leading to nights filled with dreams of seeing and holding her again like that night after the final battle._)

The trio of girls must have spoken together as well, timing their letters to coincide so they only had to use one owl. Not only did this lower the danger factor, but the frequency of Hermione's correspondence forced everyone else to communicate more often than they probably would have otherwise. Harry and Neville wouldn't admit it, but it was awfully nice to hear from the girls that they missed so much so often. Many a night was spent in silence as each of the boys lied still in their sleeping bags, each off in their own dream world where the remaining known Death Eaters were taken care of and the school year was over.

Fortunately for the three boys, they didn't even have to wait that long to be reunited with their pen pals. As the year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts rolled around, Kingsley Shacklebolt announced the official observation of the day as Victory Day. A nationwide morning of mourning was planned to remember those who had fallen fighting for the light, followed by an evening of celebration to remind everyone how much happier life was now. Headmistress McGonagall even invited the first celebration to include a feast and dance on the Hogwarts Grounds, allowing a grand number of people from outside the school students and staff into the area for the first time in a long time.

With the Acting Minister of Magic himself and multiple other key members of the Ministry planning to attend the celebration at the school, any Aurors not on a case marked as top priority were pulled from their assignments to 'assist in security,' as Shacklebolt's note to the three boys declared. Smiles spread across each of their faces as the letter continued to say that they should still partake in the merry-making, revealing that the 'security' excuse was only partially for safety reasons. By this time, Aurors had to travel far and wide in search of the few 'people of interest' left, leaving most of England feeling much more secure.

The night that they received that letter, the three boys had held a celebration of their own in their small tent camped on the outskirts of a forest in Albania. Once they wrapped up their latest case, they were on leave to go home. With this happy news, the boys worked quickly. Within a week later, they were exchanging promises to see each other next on the Hogwarts Grounds before Apparating back to England.

After arriving back in familiar territory, Neville spent the day with his family, going with his grandmother to visit his parents in St. Mungo's. Although there were still some areas of the hospital that could use some reconstruction and redecoration, the building was structurally sound and in proper condition. Standing in his parents' ward, Neville thought it looked exactly the way it had before the war, like the room was a bubble where the Dark Lord's dark stain couldn't reach. He liked the idea of that.

Like their room, his parents hadn't changed either.

(_Though he'd never forget what was new – the whisper from his grandmother that they would be so proud… so proud of their boy, just like she was._)

As usual, tears formed in his eyes while he left (_with his head held high this time)_, ignoring the awe-struck faces and the various praises as he passed through the waiting room to return home.

Four days later, he and his grandmother Apparated to the Burrow before the sunrise to spend the morning of mourning with the Weasleys. Sad smiles and moist eyes found practically everyone's face, but by the early afternoon, most of them had covered up such emotions with half-fake grins and half-forced laughter. George, Neville noted, was absent during that time period. According to his younger brother, the prankster had yet to recover even remotely from his twin's passing. Guilt and regret flashed through Ron's eyes as he reported his, but he swiftly changed the subject to the approaching festivities, asking if he had a partner for the evening.

In response, Neville told his friend how he had scrawled out a note to Luna the first day back in the country. Before sunset, she had sent a message back, demanding in her sideways manner what colors he was wearing so that she could find something to match, since she had already decided they would be going together as friends.

(_Her exact words, he remembers, were: "What will you be wearing? It's so nice to know I have you to go with. After all, you're my closest friend. We are friends still, right? You can't wear black, by the way. It's much too dreary for such a day." He had written back that they were not only friends, but the best of friends, and he would be wearing white and blue, wondering which she would wear._)

Hermione, Ron declared – happy to announce indirectly that he would indeed be officially spending the evening with the bushy-haired bookworm – had also already informed him that Ginny had picked a color for her dress and that Ginny was planning on marching his 'freckled behind' up to the Gryffindor Tower if he wasn't matching his date. Harry laughed for the first time that day when he heard about his girlfriend's threats, expressing his relief that he got to wear his old emerald green dress robes, tailored of course.

At this point, Mrs. Weasley called upon the three boys to help her set lunch out for the group, insisting that no one could celebrate and dance all night on an empty stomach.

Once the meal had been prepared, inhaled, and cleaned up to Mrs. Weasley's satisfaction, groups began to Apparate together to Hogsmeade. Along with Ron and Harry, Neville traveled with Percy, Bill, and Fleur. Every one of them froze silently when they approached the school gates, remembering the last time they had seen the castle. Miraculously, the magical building had assisted in the reconstruction by piecing itself back together. The grounds however, still held scars from the battlefield that had drank blood only one year ago.

Their silence did not last long, however, since they met up with a collection of familiar faces along the way to the entrance. To their surprise, they didn't make it into the building for another couple of hours, since Headmistress McGonagall was out directing the arrangements for the celebrations, feast, and dance later that day on various parts of the ground, calling for any available hands. Between assisting their ex-Transfiguration professor and reminiscing about the battle twelve months past, the Gryffindor boys hadn't even noticed the scattering of students from the castle socializing around the grounds, much less the approach of three girls they knew particularly well. Ginny Weasley tackling her boyfriend and then snogging him into the dirt sure did catch their attention, bringing joyous laughter to the air as they faced each other again.

"Hello, Neville," Luna greeted softly, her silver eyes shining brightly. Her blonde hair seemed even longer than he remembered, falling gently down the curves of her back. With her lips holding that dancing smile, he almost forgot that he needed to breathe.

"Hello, Luna," he managed to say quietly, a grin sneaking its way across his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Ron and Hermione kissing, but he really couldn't have cared less. "How've you been?"

"All right, I suppose," she answered lightly. "You?"

"All right," he echoed.

"It's been a bit lonely this year without everyone," Luna remarked airily. (_Irrationally, he hoped everyone meant him._) "Though I have had Ginny and Hermione to keep me company."

"The two of you have been getting along?" Ron asked in amazement, breaking apart from one of the girls he was talking about. Hermione rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the stomach for being so tactless.

"Oh yes," Luna answered, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there was a time when they didn't. "She's quite smart, you know, but she hasn't heard of a fraction of the creatures I like to study."

"Imagine that," Harry commented with an amused grin as Hermione grew a bit red with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. Fortunately, Ginny quickly changed the subject – something Neville guessed she did often with the other two girls around – and the six of them managed to watch the day melt away as they chatted and walked by the Great Lake, just as if they were all still students from the school in the background.

Around 4 o'clock, however, Ginny pulled herself from Harry's embrace and insisted that she and the other girls needed to get ready for the night's celebrations, adding that the boys better go along and get dressed as well. Knowing that they didn't need to spend nearly as long preparing for the night as the girls, the boys wandered back towards the place closer to the castle where McGonagall was setting up tables for the upcoming feast. Most of the work there was done by then, however, they learned from Dean, Seamus, and Parvati. Ron – in his typical manner of ignorance – made the mistake of asking where Lavender had wandered off to, not knowing or perhaps forgetting that she had been among the causalities of the Battle of Hogwarts. Their entire party darkened with the memories, but Neville noticed that Parvati and Seamus, especially, retained a forlorn gleam in their eyes even after the subject was dropped. The six did not talk for long, however, since they were soon recruited to assist in the decoration of the dance floor on the opposite side of the castle, closer to the gardens.

An hour later, friends and acquaintances were appearing everywhere. Deciding that since everyone else was changing into their dress robes, they probably ought to as well, the boys sought out Mrs. Weasley, thanking her for taking their things in her bag before rushing off to the bathrooms. When they popped back into the halls, all three spun around at the sound of their names being shouted through the corridors.

There, just on the top of the lowest staircase, stood a collection of girls in dress robes with fancy hair styles, scatterings of jewelry, and varying amounts of make-up. Among them stood Hermione, Ginny, and Luna. As they approached, Neville's gaze narrowed in on the blonde, who had left her long hair free, unlike most of the others. Still, she looked… _different_. But a good sort of different. Never before had Neville seen such a unique design for dress robes, which he noted immediately were a deep blue. But more than anything else, her lips caught his attention; she was wearing the reddest lipstick he'd ever seen in his entire life.

"You look nice," she told him as she came closer, the words formed from those red, red lips. Her silver eyes still sparkled, but they were highlighted by the shimmer from her eyelids.

"Er… you, um… you too," Neville replied, stumbling a bit over his words. "You look very nice."

"Thank you," she responded airily. "Ginny did my make-up. It feels a bit strange."

"Where are we headed?" Ginny inquired, bringing the couples back into a collective group. Smiling and laughing, they gathered a few other friends and old classmates as they returned to the grounds, including handholding Dean and Parvati, with Seamus tagging along without a partner. On the outer steps, most of the current students were gathered, along with members of the Order and significant figures from the Ministry. A few minutes later, Headmistress McGonagall stood on a platform no one had seemed to notice beforehand and called for silence. After a few words, she invited Kingsley Shacklebolt to speak. Several times he referred to the people that had made the victory a year ago possible, including the obvious members of Neville's own party, as well as himself. (_He blushed furiously then, turning even more red when Luna placed a light kiss on his cheek._) Applause and cheers rang through the crowds over and over, but by the conclusion of the Acting Minister's words, tears ran down many cheeks, shed for the individuals missing and the innocence forever lost.

On such a note, the migration to the tables was a largely silent affair. Nevertheless, some forced laughter here and a fake smile there broke the ice that eventually led to genuine happiness once again. As the night progressed, people remembered to cling to the hope that they had been blessed with one year ago.

After dinner, however, the Headmistress announced that all the current students under fourth year had to return to the castle for bed since they still had classes the following day. The sun had set by then, but the gardens were lit by fairy lights, as well as by the white moon. Although the full moon had been two days ago, it was still largely circular, with a purity that brightened the surface of the lake and made eyes sparkle, skin glow, and hair shine.

At the request of Shacklebolt himself, Harry and Ginny opened the ball, smiling at each other as if the crowd of people around them didn't exist. When Luna took his hand in hers and wordlessly pulled him towards the other dancing couples, Neville couldn't even think. As they swayed from side to side, his brain felt completely empty, yet utterly content. A foolish smile spread across his face, he knew, because Luna questioned him about it.

Well, actually, her exact words were: "Have you come in contact with a Jarkin lately?"

A bit thrown off, but strangely finding it extremely endearing, he shook his head and felt a grin break out across his mouth as he asked what Jarkin was.

"It's this tiny creature that looks like a beetle, but it has needle-sharp teeth," she explained calmly. "When it bites someone, it releases a poison in their bloodstream that causes a sensation of euphoria."

"Well, I don't think I've seen one," Neville answered with a bemused grin. "Why do you ask?"

"You've been really happy all day," she remarked.

"Maybe I'm just happy," Neville suggested, lowering his head a bit as heat flooded his cheeks.

"I suppose that is a possible explanation," she responded thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side. The movement allowed the moon to light up her face, catching the shine of her silver eyes that contrasted so sharply with her rose red lips.

"Luna…" Neville began before slipping his eyes shut for a fraction of a moment, letting the serenity he felt sweep over him completely. When he opened them again, he only saw her, with the most beautiful eyes and reddest, most perfect lips he'd ever seen. "Luna, I…"

"You what?" she asked softly, curiosity lacing her tone. No knowing how to answer her question, Neville stopped swaying and leaned forward, gently removing his hand from her fingers to trail up her arm, and then down and across her back to properly hold her waist before pulling her closer. Seeing the brilliant twinkling of her eyes, he knew she didn't need to hear anything to understand what he had been trying to say.

Instead, she tilted her head towards his and kissed him.

(_And suddenly he knew not only what words would have expressed his feelings, but was confident that she shared those feelings as well. But he really didn't mind waiting, just like he didn't mind going home that night stained by some of her lipstick. He didn't mind, because he knew with a surety that the little pieces in his hourglass were flowing smoothly, pieces the same ruby red color as her lips that night._)

And for a while, he was happy. Incredibly, unrealistically happy. Everywhere he looked, things were getting better. A week after the first celebration of Victory Day, Kingsley Shacklebolt was officially elected the Minister of Magic. Shortly after graduating from Hogwarts, Hermione joined his efforts by accepting his offered position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Although she had to be pushed in, she quickly dug deeper into the new Ministry determined to fix anything broken and improve everything else.

While Harry and Ron continued to travel as Aurors, Neville asked to leave the job permanently shortly after Luna had graduated from Hogwarts. At the graduation, Professor Sprout had approached Neville to inform him that she hoped to retire in a few years and wished to present McGonagall with his name as a possible replacement for Herbology professor. Shocked, but definitely overjoyed, Neville was determined to study the subject in depth over the next few years to prepare himself.

As his girlfriend, Luna shared his excitement and fully supported his choice. Often, they would spend evenings together curled up together on the couch in his apartment with a pair of books – his on various plants, hers on the various creatures that lived in such plants. The bookcases in Neville's small apartment seemed to fill themselves over the following months and years. Their relationship blossomed, and the two of them occasionally group dated with Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, who they remained close friends with.

Over time, however, little things would go wrong. They would fight over the smallest of things, in that peculiar way she fought. Truth be told, it frustrated Neville how she never lost her temper or yelled or even slammed a book down on a table when she got upset.

Then again, most of the time he was the one getting upset. Although he loved her, he couldn't stand the way she was so careless sometimes. Even when the situation called for it, she was never serious. The first time he brought her to see his parents, she had been so wonderful with them, so understanding. She talked to them like they listened, told them stories about her life, informed them about little details they probably didn't know about their only son. He had been unable to take his eyes off her, even as tears formed in them.

A few months later, however, after visiting his parents weekly, she started suggesting different creatures that could be keeping them from responding like normal people. He stared at her incredulously, wanting to shout that they had been _tortured into insanity, for Merlin's sake, not inflicted with some ridiculous parasite no one's ever heard of_. Resisting to do so, he merely told her that he doubted it; they had been in the hospital for almost two decades, it was futile to believe they would ever return to sanity. Thankfully, she dropped the subject, but he heard her whisper to his mother sometimes when they would visit about some magical creature that could possibly help her, and it bothered him. For no reason at all, it bothered him.

Then there were her whisperings of traveling, of searching the world for the creatures that so fascinated her. At first it was to his parents, then to him directly. She would ask him as they ate dinner, or when they were curled up in front of a fire, or in bed before he drifted off to sleep.

"Wouldn't it be nice to see the world?" she would ask dreamily.

"Yes, dear," he would always reply. But he could never bring himself to do it. He wanted to study more, he wanted to make sure he could see his parents.

"But you could go out and _see _all those plants you read about," Luna would push. "Actually feel and smell and hear them in person. Besides, your parents went a year without you while you were gone before."

And though he knew she spoke the truth, something kept him grounded. There were always excuses: Ginny had an upcoming match and wanted Luna to be there; Neville's grandmother was in bad health again and needed some assistance around the house; Ginny and Harry were getting married and plans needed to be made; her apartment needed to be sold since she decided to move in with him rather than find a new roommate; Ginny was pregnant and a baby shower had to be put together; Dean and Parvati were getting married and expected them to attend; Ginny had a miscarriage and needed support; his grandmother passed away.

The last one, however, ended up being the excuse that backfired. On her deathbed, Neville's grandmother made him promise to take care of Luna. (_She's the best thing that ever happened to you, boy. If you ever let her go, you'll regret it. Go and take her on that trip the two of you have been talking about for years. Promise me, Neville. Promise me._) Two days after her funeral, they left for South America.

Luna was ecstatic. In her own peculiar way, of course. She brought her favorite reference books on creatures in the area; he brought his favorites on indigenous plants. Although he was reluctant at first, he ended up enjoying himself immensely. Their days were spent exploring the native forest, becoming delighted whenever they made finds, but still happy just being together. They visited multiple beaches in the evenings, walking the shore barefoot, snogging in the sand, jumping into the water to search for water creatures. Over those two weeks, he fell more in love with her than ever. That very trip, he imagined, was exactly what their honeymoon would be like.

When they returned to England, that carefree happiness came with them to stay for a while. Luna's interest in strange creatures exponentially increased, and she always carried a book or two around with her. However, Neville only got to revel in the aftermath of their adventure together for a short time before he realized that he would need a job until Professor Sprout retired. Financial stresses pressed upon him, taking away the time he wanted to spend with Luna or studying Herbology. Meanwhile, she kept dropping hints that she wanted to go away again, that she was growing restless in England.

And suddenly, they were back where they had been before their trip.

(_The rubies – or were those rubies? They seemed like worthless grains of sand so often nowadays – in his hourglass were dropping faster, fleeing to reach the bottom, and he had a dreadful feeling that he was running out._)

Unlike last time, they both would get upset. He stressed about making house payments, about his irritating work schedule, about how behind he was in his studying. She ached to get out of the house, out of England if she could. They tried to control their emotions, but the frustrations simply seemed to escalade.

Then, one day he came home from work early, relieved that he could spend the rest of the evening with his girlfriend, only to find her absent. When she came home an hour later, wearing a smile and a layer of dirt, he quickly figured out that she had been off exploring various places by herself while he was out working for weeks.

"That's dangerous!" he exclaimed, worry and anger colliding, battling for dominance within him. "You shouldn't be alone out there, Luna! What if something happened?"

"Nothing will happen. You worry too much," she responded coolly. For the first time though, he could see flames of irritation and frustration burning in her silver eyes.

"I worry about _you_, honey," he corrected, wishing she would understand how serious this was. "I'm serious about this."

"So am I," she insisted.

"You're never serious!" he protested, voice bordering on a yell with its volume.

"I can too be serious!" she retorted with a scream. The flames behind that silver were suddenly bright, so bright that her arms started to shake. "I fought in the war, too! I was there, Neville! I _know_ how to be serious!"

"Then why aren't you ever?" he demanded, gesturing widely with his hands. "Even when something is serious, you always act…"

"_How_ do I act?" she spat, wanting him to finish his description of her.

"Naïve!" he shouted. "You act like it's no big deal!"

"I am _not _naïve," she ground out, glaring at him darkly. "I watched people I love die. I watched human beings get tortured by other human beings. I fought in battles that were marked by blood and pain. I saw my best friend go through the death of her unborn child. I see the man I love break into pieces every time I go with him to visit his tortured, insane parents."

Silence rang throughout the room as she stared at him, waiting for him to say something. But he couldn't; he just stood there, staring back at her as he processed what she had said. Was he wrong? Was she just pretending to not care about the risks and the dangers and the agony when she acted all carefree and happy during such serious times?

He never did get a chance to say anything. Before his mouth even opened again, she spun on her heels and left, grabbing her wand and coat. Instead of hearing the distinctive pop of her Disapparating, however, he heard the truck Ginny had bought her for Christmas the year after they graduated; she found driving relaxing, she said. He didn't quite understand why, especially since she always drove so fast.

Once she left, breath and reality slammed back into Neville, forcing him to collapse at the weight of them. He hung his head, cradling it in his hands as he struggled to think properly. What had happened? What had he done? How was this supposed to be fixed?

When did it get so different, he wondered. When did it all change? Unable to find any answers, he sat unmoving as he waited. Water ran down his arms, but it took him a while to figure out that it came from his own eyes. He didn't care.

Hours later, he heard the truck return. Quietly, he noticed. So quietly. Her radio wasn't blasting, breaks didn't screech as she arrived. It was quiet.

That was when he knew: this wasn't going to be fixed. Not now.

"Here comes goodbye," he mumbled under his breath, weary at the very thought of it. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. They were supposed to be happy. They were supposed to get married, have kids, be a family, be _happy_.

As exhausted as he felt, he snapped into a standing position and twisted to face the door when he heard the doorknob turn. For a long moment, they stared at each other, studying the grief etched into each other's faces.

The whisper of a sliver of a hope enter his brain that maybe, just maybe…

"I can't stay," she reported, snapping his hopes in two. Couldn't she have whispered the heavy words? Or softened them? Anything?

Then he wondered, where couldn't she stay? At their apartment? With him? Both? How long would she be gone? (_Please don't say forever. He could wait for years, if she would come back then. Anything but forever._)

Softly, she retreated to her bedroom, and for a moment he dreamt that he had heard her wrong, that she was just tired and they would sort all this out in the morning. Then he heard the telltale sounds of things being packed into a trunk by magic, the sounds that declared the death of his heart as it shattered. He wanted to burst into the room, beg her to stay, kiss her fingers, her forehead, her lips, her neck, tell her he still loved her, assure her they could work things out. They were just upset. He was just upset. He hadn't meant it.

But something held him back. Foolish hope, he supposed. Some kind of denial took hold of him, promising that if he didn't go into that room, she wouldn't be preparing to leave him. So he stood there, waiting, wishing, dreaming while awake. He let his eyes slip closed, and the sound became louder. When he opened them again, she was standing in front of him, her hand raised as if to caress his cheek, fingers mere centimeters from his skin. Clear tears shined from her silver eyes that were encircled by red. The tracks left behind by hundreds of tears already shed shimmered in the dim light of their apartment.

Her fingers never reached his skin, he never managed to say a word, and then she was gone, the truck slowly leaving its place in front of the apartment that was no longer _theirs_, but merely _his_.

She was driving slowly, he realized, and he thought about running after her, like a true idiot, fleeing down the street barefoot and begging for her to come back.

(_What else could he do? He couldn't sleep without her anymore – the occasional nights she spent with her girlfriends had taught him this. He was nothing without her. He needed her. He loved her. Didn't she love him? She used to._)

But was that what she wanted? Was that what he was supposed to do? He wasn't the smart one; he wasn't the Ravenclaw. All he had were his Gryffindor rubies (_though now he wasn't sure they were ever rubies; maybe it had been just sand all along_); he never knew what was the right thing to do.

So he did nothing. He let her go.

('_She's the best thing that ever happened to you, boy,' his grandmother had said. ' If you ever let her go, you'll regret it.' Oh, did he regret it. Merlin, did he regret it._)

An entire week passed before he found out that she hadn't gone to Ginny's house, like he had guessed. No, she had left town, left the country to be more exact. Harry had come by the apartment to find him passed out in the kitchen, the stench of alcohol staining the air, and informed him of that little fact once he was awake again.

(_And oh, how he longed to fall back asleep – back to the place where she was with him and his head didn't hurt so bloody much._)

Evidently Luna had told Ginny that she planned to be gone for a long time. A year, maybe two. Harry had come over to see how Neville was doing.

(_Not so good. Not at all._)

Two months passed, and Ron proposed to Hermione. She said yes, of course. And he was happy for them, he really was. (_But it was supposed to be them: him and her. He wanted it to be her._) But the reason he looked forward to the wedding wasn't because he was happy for his friends. Privately, the only thought that occupied his mind was the possibility that she would be there, that he could see her again.

Work and studying Herbology were the only factors in his life anymore. Ron and Harry would take turns checking in on him every Friday evening, making sure he didn't drink himself into oblivion again. He figured out their routines though, and would only drink on Sunday mornings, emptying every bottle available until he collapsed on the closest surface, waking up early the next day to recover in time to head to work.

By the spring of 2004, he had managed to trudge through an entire year without seeing her without any scars (_though he was withering away inside; didn't they see?_). Ron and Hermione's wedding was approaching fast, and Professor Sprout had contacted him: this would be her last year teaching. For the first time in twelve months, Neville tried to hope. But going without hoping for so long (_he dreamed and wished and prayed… but he had stopped hoping long ago_), it was difficult to start again. Especially when Ron and Hermione's wedding arrived, and she didn't.

He had been crushed. With everyone preoccupied with the nuptials, no one had even noticed that he kept to the sidelines, striving with all his might to keep the pseudo-smile pasted across his face.

That night was the first time in his life he went to the Leaky Cauldron with the intention of getting completely and utterly sloshed. Behind the bar, Tom gave him a sad smile, his wise, old eyes revealing that he knew more than Neville could guess. The Gryffindor stared at him for a second before letting his gaze focus on the firewhiskey in front of him.

Eventually, it became routine. Every Friday night, he would go to the Leaky Cauldron and get drunk. When Harry and Ron found out where he had been disappearing off to, they invited themselves to the unofficial weekly gathering. Over time, Neville started enjoying Friday nights again, rather than wasting them away drowning his grief. (_Though every once in a while, he would still spend Sunday morning downing drink after drink after drink._)

When the summer days approached an end, the three boys decided they would miss their get-togethers with Neville off at Hogwarts. Nevertheless, Neville soon discovered that teaching at the school was the best distraction available. Preparing and teaching his classes kept him busy, and his students made him smile again – when they weren't giving him a headache. However, certain subjects and places would spark the shortest and most insignificant of memories that would send him running to his quarters and opening the nearest bottle. With classes to teach, he always made sure he remained sober throughout the weekday and never embarrassed himself by parading around the castle inebriated.

When the school year ended, Neville felt a bit apprehensive about returning to his (_their_) apartment again. To his great surprise, the summer passed rather smoothly. Between weekly visits to his parents, weekly meetings with Ron and Harry, and the occasional gathering with more of the Weasley family, the biggest problem in his life was the way Ginny constantly hinted towards dating again.

(_Other than the giant problem, of course. The fact that she wasn't there. Then again, perhaps the two problems were one and the same. Perhaps that was why even nudge and suggestion bothered him so. No one even mentioned her to him – maybe they discussed her activities, her mood, her whereabouts while he wasn't present, maybe they didn't speak with her any longer, he didn't know. Sometimes he wanted to ask, but he dreaded the answer. So he did nothing._)

Without his permission, the second year of teaching followed the first in a similar fashion, but slightly less awkward, with a bit less drinking. And then the third. Each time he returned home, he hoped that Harry or Ginny or anyone would tell him news of Luna, but everyone avoided the topic. But then, a week before he was scheduled to leave for his fourth year of being a Professor, Hermione pulled him away from the group and told him the news.

Luna was getting married (_to someone else_).

After only four years. Four years? Four years. She had been with him for four years. Did she really move on that fast?

Devastated (_though that single word of measly letters couldn't possibly describe the way he felt – like someone had taken that hourglass of his life and shattered it completely by hurling it against a stone wall_), Neville didn't go home that night. Instead, he spent the entire night seated at the counter of the Leaky Cauldron.

And that was the night he started talking with Hannah.

Although they had been in the same year, Neville had never really known the girl. They had gone through so many similar experiences though, going to school the same time as Harry Potter, forced to attend Hogwarts under Snape, fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts. He never knew that she had lost her mother during the war (_or maybe he had just forgotten_). He never knew that she had idolized him their seventh year. He never knew that her grandfather was Tom the Caretaker, even though everyone knew he died the year before, and it certainly made sense then that she had inherited the pub at that time.

During that year at Hogwarts, the two constants in his life were the taste of liquor in the back of his throat and Hannah's letters. When he came back for the summer, he asked the girl out on a date.

(_And despite what the others thought, the timing had nothing to do with when he found out about the birth of two certain twin boys. Her boys._)

Hannah was good for him. With time, the sand seemed to exist again. Then it started flowing. Painstakingly slowly, he grew to like his life again. After another year of teaching and another summer of dating, Neville picked out a simple ring and asked her to marry him. She said yes.

(_But he was pretty sure that she was happier than he was._)

Their friends congratulated them with gigantic smiles, inquiring about the details Neville hadn't really thought about. Hannah's aunt helped plan the wedding with her, perfecting every detail, with Ron as his best man, Susan – Hannah's best friend – as maid of honor, and a small gathering of guests. (_He debated on inviting her, but she had never even told him about her own marriage, so he decided against even mentioning it to his bride-to-be._) With Neville's work taking him away for so long, they decided on a winter wedding, right between Christmas and the end of the year.

When the day finally came, Neville was delighted to discover how excited he was. Although he could never forget Luna, perhaps it was possible to move on. Hannah was beautiful and kind and everything anyone could hope for. She wrote to him often while he was at school and they spent many marvelous days and nights together during the holidays.

On their first anniversary, Hannah revealed that she was pregnant. That following summer, their son was born. Together, they had chosen the name Frank Thomas, after both of their fathers. Hannah had been the one to suggest using the family names, but Neville hadn't been against it. He rather liked the idea of honoring his dad in such a way, even if he did prefer the name Benjamin. (_Because there was this memory of a carefree time when she had been eating toast in their bed at their apartment and observed that the name had 'jam' in the middle of it.) _Figuring there would be other sons, he didn't make a big deal about it.

Hannah, however, decided that one was enough. Their home above the pub was the perfect size for three, she told him. Besides, she had always planned on always having a single child. (_Though Neville had hated being so lonely when he was growing up; he had always wanted at least two. When he had discussed the subject with her, she had spoken of multiple mouths and fingers to entertain during their travels. The traveling part had bothered him, but the image of many little ones never failed to curl his lips into a smile._)

Being away at Hogwarts for most of the year, he missed many of his son's firsts. Still, teaching was everything he ever wanted, even if he didn't see his family very often. (_Sometimes he was convinced that being away from Frank and Hannah didn't bother him as much as it probably should._) During the holidays, he would always try to make up for the lost time by spending every waking minute with the boy. At least once a week, they would go to St Mungo's and visit his parents. Seeing them with his little boy brought tears of pride and regret to his eyes as he wished that they could enjoy being grandparents as they deserved. (_Hannah seldom went with them on these trip; his wife was always busy with the Leaky Cauldron._)

That – the loss he felt at his parent's condition – was at least one thing that Hannah understood. Every evening they returned from the hospital, she would be waiting with a sad, reassuring smile (_and a single shot of hard liquor_). He liked that about Hannah: she could be serious when required. Of course, she could also be fun. Indeed, she made him smile and laugh many a time, and that was one of the things he loved about her. And he did love her. After all, he loved many things about her, like the way she played with Frank, and the way she laughed. He loved the fact that she wrote him letters on a regular basis, and that she never complained about his absences. He loved how she didn't push him into things he didn't want to do, and how she hardly ever wore make-up (_especially lipstick_) and looked beautiful anyway.

(_But did he actually love _Hannah? _He didn't know. He was never the smart one._)

One time, Ron even told him that they were perfect for each other, reminding him of some TV program Hermione had been watching the other day. And Neville had to agree. He knew what Muggle television was, and upon reflection, he decided that he and Hannah were like the couples on those silly programs: practically perfect. They still had their faults, of course, like everyone else in the world, but they seemed to work; at the end of the day, they were stable. (_But not real, because real had always been with her, as backwards as it sounded._)

Stability was good, reliable, dependable. Neville could always count on Hannah to turn things around when they went bad (_Hannah__HaHH__ flipped his hourglass over and over again, making sure the sand was always running just like making sure that everyone's mugs were always filled_). He always knew she would be there, waiting for him when he returned home at last.

(_But now he knew with a surety that it was sand flowing through his hourglass. Maybe it used to be rubies, though. Maybe she had given him a magnificently designed hourglass with golden bases and glass that shined like her silver eyes, and maybe she had kept filling that piece of art with glittering rubies, pouring and pouring and pouring in an effort to keep it not flowing, but full. But when she left, she took those rubies and that golden structure along with his heart, and he was left with his old hourglass, with its withered wooden bases and tiny grains of sand. And though Hannah never failed to flip that hourglass over and over, now those same grains of sand simply slipped through that same tunnel time after time after time._)


End file.
